And All That Jazz
by Adiemus1
Summary: Pony’s school is a melting pot of Greed, Corruption, Violence, Sex, Betrayal………And All That Jazz.
1. Debut

Author's Note:

Hello everyone, this is Adiemus here, and this is defiantly an original fic! I don't know why I'm even writing this, I just saw the trailer for the movie Chicago, which this is going to be loosely based on (I haven't seen the movie, so bear with me). When I say loosely I mean loosely. I think I have the general idea for some of it………..I've kept some of the same names, but they look different from the actors and actresses in Chicago. This is completely different from anything I've ever written, I've never done a musical or a play or anything like this, so please any kind of pointers would help. The style of this is also a big change for me, since I usually do very little dialogue and TONS of detail! (Of course, that doesn't apply to the first couple of chapters, since I want you to get a feel for it). Seriously, if any of you like big words and long complicated sentences check out my story "The Empress" on it is** _completely_** different from this. Heh, just wanted to let you know I don't talk like the way they do in this story, I had to rough it up for a realistic point of view. Sorry, I didn't mean to write this much………I think I'm forgetting something, but if I am I'll just post it next chapter. Oh yeah, I don't really think I've distributed the amount of detail very well, so if I get the chance I may go back and revise a few things. Please give this a try!

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…: And All That Jazz :…

La la la la, the words, not even words at that, kept spinning and playing 'round and 'round in her head, and the vibrant sound of drums and the 'ol brass band echoed back and forth, rhythmically in tact with the fast paced beating of her heart and the swaying of her body back and forth. She irritably chewed hard on her gum, anxiously popping at every single chance she got. Hell, she didn't get a lot chances anywhere else, why not take the opportunity now? She was Roxie, and she was a showgirl. Naw, not on Broadway, but in what could be described as "Beginning Theater"………..or you might call it the high school play. See, you couldn't really get anywhere in Tulsa, the small town full of fighting gangs without names, old washed up farmers, and gossiping backstabbing citizens. One day she'd get outta here and make it to some big city; the nightlife of New York, the fame of Hollywood, or the bright lights of Chicago. Chicago; it was the name of her most recent idea, hopefully one that would put her on the map. Either way it wasn't much of a deal to the local folks, but to Ms. Roxie Hart it was a way of life. She'd show them-come back in a couple years on her way to star in an award winning play or movie or something great. Glory did that girl love to show herself off. She could do it all; she danced, she sung, and she was a real looker. If any of those old time stars had gotten their hands on a time machine to Tulsa in the sixties, they would've gone mad with jealously for sure.

"Why there ain't a star in heavens who wouldn't give to be in your pretty lil' shoes honey!" or "Darlin' if Judy Garland or Rita Hayworth took on look atcha they'd have gone right an' hung 'emselves." This was what Roxie was often told, and it only helped with her self-esteem, a factor that could've been both good and bad. But nevertheless, no one comment, nor a plethora of those sugar-sweet words could do anything to waver her faith and stamina. Aw, she was one tough cookie all right, not a girl in the same town could compare, and she liked it that way. The boys flocked to her and the girls and adults whispered around her, for not matter how old they may be, it is a given fact that many of the male species can't resist a good-looking gal, and the more racy the better.

She snapped the heels of her black spikes and did a little number, just to warm her up for the time ahead. Maybe it was only a rehearsal, but it was a chance to get better, and better she would get. In fact, whatever Roxie wanted Roxie got, whether it was a new set of jewelry or a couple bucks for the soda Shoppe down the street. This was the year, she was a senior and she'd finally flirted with enough committee members to get her own play. Originally she'd opted for the role of a hooker, but found no kind of offer she could make would give her the opportunity to bring about that much controversy. So she went for the second choice. Roxie'd play a woman who'd committed some kind of criminal offense and rose to fame and that all that came along with the fieriness of showbiz. Now, not being _**that** _much of a stupid girl, she operated most of the play, save for the script. No, that task was rightly given to the man, or boy, who could carry out a story worthy enough of Roxie herself. And who is he you ask? Why the only one fit for the job, Mr. Ponyboy Curtis.

Said he'd gotten some experience writing for the school newspaper or some form of junk like that. Oh well. "Listen up sugar," she told him at auditions, "I don't wanna a writer who gives a dime 'bout politics or whether or not the school ain't paying the staff enough. I wanna writer who'll really make something of this. I intend to make it big someday, and if you ain't willing to help me, I'll just find else someone who will!" If anyone but Pony had seen the passion that shone I her eyes the second she finished her speech, why they'd swear it didn't exist. Roxie Hart never cared about anything in Tulsa before, so why this play? Well, the answer to question remained inside the minds of only two living creatures………the persecutor and the victim, aka Roxie and Pony. And what a team they were; there were a regular Judy and Mickey, Elvis and Costello, Tom and Huck. In other words for all you misologists out there or just kids, I suppose you might simply say the fit; and they fit well. Even the names: Pony and Roxie. Not exactly common, that's for sure, but unique and eccentric often receives the most attention.

She heard the distant sounds of her classmates as they yelled back and forth to each other, reciting forgotten lines, cussing and fighting and figuring out the proper amount of light for a certain scene. She clicked her heels together, and snapped her fingers, glancing around the scarlet curtain towards her most celebrated writer. She turned the fabric slightly so that she still appeared mysterious, her pale bare shoulder sticking out to contrast "loverly" with the red tapestry and her scarlet hair. He looked up form his work, red-faced and tired, and gave her a weak smile. The white-cotton shirt was rolled up to his elbows and she had to admit he almost looked dashing had he been more focused. Attitude was everything to Roxie, and if you didn't have it, you weren't good enough to like the dirt off her shoes………not they were ever dirty mind you, just a tad scuffed due to dancing everyday. She returned the gesture, but let a heavy amount of slyness drip into her smile. She gave him a wink also, just for the hell of it. No boy or man could ever tell if Ms. Hart was into him, 'cause she'd flirt everybody if she were in the mood. 'Course they never complained.

Her playful attitude suddenly slipped away as she noticed a familiar face in the background of all the mayhem. She put on a disgusted face, tossed back her hair and leaned archly on a nearby post. Her one known-rival forcefully approached the stage, her jaded green eyes piercing right into Roxie's. Velma Kelley strutted up and threw her chest forward, as if calling out a personal threat to the girl who had it all. Now Velma, though much like Roxie, was a different kinda girl. She wasn't as pretty, wasn't as graceful or energetic, but still she kept the definition of a smoldering temptress, her title since the eighth grade. Neither girl could wait for graduation when they would vow never set sight on the other again. The air intensified around them, and it was as if the people around them paused from whatever they were doing to catch a glimpse of the epic moment. Hell, it wasn't everyday you saw this.

The sound of a cough echoing throughout the room brought Roxie's eyebrow to rise and Velma to wheel around in flash, trying to catch the crazy bastard who would dare to interrupt her. What she found displeased her greatly. Before the girls stood a rather large woman, dominating the presence of the entire room. Her dark eyes and skin made her look like a chocolate cake, and her hair added the frosting on top. Her features proved to be masculine and intimidating to those who angered her wrath, but the ones whom loved her were never weary of the sharp nose and chin. Velma greeted her with bitter disdain.

"Well well well, what have we here? Why Mona Matron I swear you get fatter everyday."

"Honey do I look like I give a damn 'bout what you say, you little tart?"

"Oh, Mona that was cold!" She turned her head towards the group of boys that had started to gather 'round. "Why are you fellas gonna let her talk to me that way?" Her eyes looked down in fake sadness, and her lips formed a red circle of poutiness. She squirmed, moving her nimble body every witch way, hoping to entice them. Her supposedly sexy moves were to end, for at that instant a strong arm wrapped around her wrist, pulling her off the stage and dragging her down the aisle.

"Oh Mona, it's just a little fun that's all! Jiminy Cricket, you sure are a killjoy!"

"Close up your smart mouth before I put my fist in it! If I catch you making any more trouble you ain't even gonna be in the play this year!" Snickers could be heard from the auditorium bouncing off the walls, each growing quieter than the last. Roxie, clearly not liking the publicity of the situation, walked down the steps towards Pony, grasping his collar and pulling no less than an inch away from her face. Her breath created a bit of mist to cloud on his face, and she stared at his lips, not daring herself to look him in the eye. Sure she was a good actress, but she'd tried it once before and found she became almost lost in them. His eyes were grayish-green, and a girl couldn't help but notice how pleasing they were.

"Ya know Pony, you're looking pretty good to me, why don't you try out for the play? You'd get all the lines down right away………after all you wrote it. Besides, I need a _**real**_ man to work with." Her gaze wavered for a second, her hands sticking themselves into his back pockets. His eyes widened a bit, his mouth opened slightly, and slight gasp could be heard. Satisfied, she pulled back, staring with a small triumphant smile, maybe even a smirk plastered crosses her face. Seductively biting her lip she licked her teeth in a horizontal motion and strutted away. Boys piled all round Pony asking him questions, yet he stood completely still, gazing after her retreating form.

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End Chapter


	2. Bitter Jealousy

To My Reviewers

Violet: Thank you so much, my first reviewer! I love it when people talk old-fashioned too, I'd love to get my hands on a time machine (I'm a huge history buff). Haha, yeah, the reason I have so many different words w/ same meaning is because I use a thesaurus. Ah, it's a writer's best friend.

Angel: Thanks so much for the review and the enthusiasm! I'll have a bit more dialogue this chapter, and I promise it will get better. I want to make a foundation for the characters, and I find I do that best by using detail (Thank you so much for the suggestion, I hadn't even noticed it before, thanks for bringing it to my attention!).

Rockabye: You rock! You're always full of enthusiasm and support, I can't tell you how much it means! Haha, actin' country huh? I do that………………a lot, actually. Every time I see a movie, I (unknowingly) imitate the characters…………I swear the other day I had just been watching Pride and Prejudice (Long live Jane Austen!) and I was on the phone with a friend and he told me to stop talking with a British accent! I had no idea I was even doing that! Go figure. Uh, I have no idea when I'll be updating "DTLM" 'cuz I'm not in the whimsical kind off mood at the moment. I'll rent Moulin Rouge and then maybe I will.

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Chapter 2:

Ah, behold the prized gossip mill of Tulsa High. Their age ranged from fourteen to eighteen, and the older they got the more gab they were able to contain………God save anyone who ever, for some confound-it reason, took it upon themselves to anger one of the clan. Naw, a clan just wasn't the right word, maybe more along the lines of "cult" or "wolf pack". Either way they all spelled trouble………not in the literal sense, mind you. The topics were always spoken of in a manner that clearly described food orders at a restaurant, which coveted the infamous "today's special", or a talk show "guest celebrity" and so it goes on and on. Now these girls weren't exactly outcasts, the losers who sat in the library and did nothing but homework during lunch, but rather they were simply excluded from the exalted groups, such as cheerleading, or one of Roxie's group. Oh, woe to you. In consequence to their need for a natural habitat, they formed the gossip mill.

The head magi was sultry figure, greasy black hair, dull brown eyes and pursed lips helped to define her squared jaw and sharp nose. Her thin eyebrows were currently raised as news of Velma's incident was eagerly received, and she licked her lips maliciously as her anticipation grew. Holding a personal hatred for the tart was as massive and un-negotiating as her ego. Darlene was her name, though while the sound of it seemed sweet, you would surely be wrong, for whatever defined her was the exact opposite. Not that she gave a damn or anything. Naw, a person oughta be passionate if they wanna give a damn or a dime, a care or crap, and this young lady wasn't passionate 'bout nothin'. Never had, never will.

The next few girls weren't all that different, but similar to most, especially if you didn't like them enough to get to know them…………….and let's face it, no one did. They rarely laughed at anything, for fear of showing off those yellow-tainted pearls, but in reality, the sound reminded one of a bunch hens clucking. I swear, you'd probably buy some birdseed, and throw it at them just to see if they'd stop for a nimble. Anyhow, they were obnoxious, fiery, powdered and painted up, and downright filthy. Oh yeah, their names were Suzanne, Annie, Liz, Deirdre, and Jackie, respectably or not.

Now, at present, the little chickies were gathered 'round Darlene, the mother hen. And boy oh boy, weren't they happy with the latest news. Turns out, Tammy Baker, head cheerleader, just caught her boyfriend in a……rather compromising situation with Tiffany Ranaldi, her former best friend. Well, apparently Tammy hadn't forgotten the fact that she did know how much a high kick could hurt…………..and left her mark. Wasn't even after she'd finished that she realized Tiffany and her ex were bleeding. Oh well. Annie, who held a personal hatred for Tiffany, was simply enthralled by this news.

"Serves the bitch right………………….and the bastard!"

Snickering rang out promptly, and plans to bend the truth were made. Suddenly the clicking of black heels contrasted with the hard yet smooth floor, also the same color, for at this moment they were situated behind the stage. A tall dark figure stepped into the dim lighting, making her appearance all the more threatening………or depending on who the audience was, alluring. There stood Roxie Hart, an eyebrow raised, a mouth open, and an annoyed look on her face.

"Stop your howling girls, and hide your teeth. My God, you're like a friggin' pack of wolves."

"Well, well, well, what do ya got up your butt?"

"My underwear, just so Suzy here can't get her filthy little paws on 'em," retorted Roxie, recalling the time when Suzanne had tried to steal her garments during P.E class a few years back. She still couldn't figure out why………… Suzy probably would have sold 'em off to some guys for money. Hell, she could make a fair amount of dough for those puppies.

"Hmm," Suzanne began to play back. "I thought Pony had your panties. After all, it's the only reason you got all this, I suppose you to give it to him to keep him satisfied from time to time. Doesn't that sound right, Deirdre?"

"Sure does."

Roxie silently fumed, but the mechanics in her head worked quickly, and the wheels began to turn. She stared at them………………and laughed. She laughed an evil laugh, one of knowing something they didn't. When she calmed down, she simply made a sharp turn with her heels, igniting the horrific sound akin to nails running down a chalkboard. All the girls shuddered as the eerie feeling arose.

Darlene flicked her cigarette onto the ground and ravenously smashed the soot into the ground with her pumps, her face contorting into a mixture of hatred, jealously and rage. Her brows knitted together, and the tiny mole above her lip began to twitch. Her eyes were hungry and, as she spied her prey, she abruptly stood up straight, lowered and smoothed out her skirt, pushed up her amicable boobs and strutted up towards Two-Bit Matthews, the King of Comedy.

He was, at the moment, having a harmonious conversation with Pony, whom Darlene also loathed, though she really had no idea why. 'Because Roxie's got him wrapped 'round her lil finger, that's why,' she would tell herself. She was walking up behind him when she noticed Pony's eyes darting up to her figure, and sending warning glances back at Two-bit, who seemed to know what was coming. Too late; Darlene wrapped her arms around Two-Bit's neck, moving up to massage his hair. He groaned, partly from disgust, partly from delight.

Pony shook his head; well that was Two-Bit for you: The comical hypocrite. Pony walked away from the scene, becoming more uncomfortable with every passing sound of lips smothering skin. With his head down, he started walking out the door when, suddenly, two creamy legs appeared out of nowhere.

"Evening Curtis," My God, she'd practically purred it.

His head was up in a flash, and he came face to face with Roxie. His heart started beating fast. He nodded his head, not quite sure of what to do.

"Hey."

"I—"

But she was cut off from the abrupt amount of whistle and cat calls from a group of passing boys in a car. Socs or greasers, neither of them new, but it didn't matter; men and boys from every sort of background imaginable tried to make a pass at her. Sure, she was used to it, but it still sent incredibly inviting shivers down her spine. She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and bit hard into her lower lip.

"You gonna let them treat me like that?"

She played coyly with the necklace attached to her slender neck. Pony opened his mouth to give his reply when he suddenly stopped. Over the past few weeks he'd observed too many things about her to give the response he had previously intended upon. She was flighty, flirty, and liked to be in the middle of rounds-or the cause of them. She loved the attention, the fame, and the spotlight. He gave a half-smile, well it was really a smirk, but it didn't matter; it just added to his charm. He prepared himself, and looked her straight in the eye.

"No, I'm not. I think you like that kinda attention. What kind of guy would I be to deprive you of it?"

And with that he did something that could either be described as stupid or completely courageous-perhaps both. He leaned down a kissed her cheek, turned, and walked away under the golden rays of a streetlight.

And at that moment he was good. He was very good.

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End Chapter


	3. Reflections

Chapter 3:

Pony continued to walk down the street, the bottoms of his shoes striking the concrete below rather harmoniously. He brought a hand up to his forehead and felt the heat radiating off of it. He wiped the sweat from his brow and stuck his hand back in his pocket. He couldn't believe the sheer magnitude of what he'd just done. Sure, it wasn't as if there was anything too shocking about it-or was there? Had Roxie Hart really ever been kissed? It did sound ridiculous, a sultry figure like her not ever been held, or loved. Had she been, er, "made a woman"? He scolded himself for how cliché the last statement sounded. His jaw set in fierce determination, he corrected his "mistake." Had she been LAID?

The very word made his head spin. It sounded so filthy, so unchaste in his head. But what really was the glue that held that girl together? Yes, she was gorgeous, yet untouched as far as he knew-a tease. Was she the kind of girl Dal would get when he was still alive? Or was she more like Evie, Steve's girl? Well how 'bout Sandy? Beautiful on the outside but poison within? He shook his head, not having realized that she was mystery without a Sherlock or a puzzle with a missing piece. It was hopeless.

Hmmm, hope. That was a word Pony had not used to describe an emotion in quiet some time. It used to be his idiom, his definition for the way he saw life………and then it came, the downfall of his friends, hurled into utter blackness……….and all Pony wanted was to follow them. And in a sense he did, for a while anyways. His sickness consumed him, and hatred mocked him.

His mind drifted back to the time when he was back in school the past year, when he pretended everything was okay. His grief, though not healed, was nursing itself back to health, and Pony felt stronger and more in depth. He'd gone to see anyone who could rid him of the terrible pain and suffering in his heart-Pony had even checked out a book on astronomy, signs, and physic beings, things like that.

He wanted to find out everything people thought about the world beyond, heaven, hell, whatever you wanted to call it, he was curious. What he ended up finding out was more about his own self. He'd turned pessimistic, sanguine, and distraught. That same night he resolved to put it all behind him, he didn't like the person he was becoming-because he was turning into Dally, and that was something he could not bear.

The sudden honking of a horn made him come back to realty; probably for the best. Pony couldn't believe how one girl could make him reach into his soul and pull out the deepest darkest of secrets. After all, she was how this little reminiscent started. He briefly wondered if she had as many problems, and for a split second he wished he could share it all with her.

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A/N: Sorry for the shortness of this chapter, I had more but I couldn't sum it up and I wanted to post this. Anyway, please review. 


	4. Fiery Rage

Chapter 4:

Meanwhile

"Damn him! Damn him to hell!"

Roxie suddenly felt the need to kick something, hit something………cause some sort of damage anyway. So she did. The tip of her black stiletto heel made contact with the nearest trashcan barely two feet away. The thundering echo of the bin grew louder as is fell to the ground, spilling an array of contents among the steps.

A ferocious rage was building up inside of her and she didn't care who knew it………as long as they didn't know the cause of it. She twirled her around, looking for something else to wreck, her red curls swooshing violently in front of her face. Her head throbbed slightly, but she didn't mind at all-rather, she welcomed it. Roxie didn't know why, but she thrived on these emotions. They were wild and savage, but completely wonderful at the same time. Her heart was pounding fiercely against her chest. She buried her delicate head in her hands, and swung it back up in a minute. Hastily kicking off her shoes and putting them in her bag (which she hid under a bush, just in case) she trampled off towards the track field, flinging off her jacket and setting off in a dead run.

Faster and faster she ran, images of the night's performance sliding through her head at a speed that mirrored that of her legs, digging into the earth below. 'Stupid bastard," she thought. 'I hate you! I hate you and all you dumb shit! You and your stupid bravery.'

She began speaking out loud now, "Why can't you just leave me alone! Why can't you drool and dream about me at night instead friggin' playing with my God forsaken pathetic emotions! Damn you!"

Before she new it she was screaming out into the open field, her only company being the blackened crows perched atop the amber colored lampposts. She glared at them too, declaring them stupid birds with disgusting beady eyes.

"You say something' Roxie?"

She blinked, realizing the crow wasn't talking at all like she just thought it had been. She ran a hand through her now limp hair, and turning around she muttered the words 'schizophrenic loser'.

It was Darlene.

"No. Nothing. Mind your own business, you tart."

"Well, well, well, it seems as though the little darling has finally lost it. Mind you, I'm not too surprised; it was bound to happen sometime ya know. Get it from that Pony-kid right?"

Darlene paused to lift a hand, carefully inspecting her fingernails.

"Everyone knows he went plumb crazy after those two pricks died. Served 'em right too."

Suddenly every feeling of unrequited hatred for Pony left Roxie's body as she bawled her fists and gritted her teeth. She was in no mood to have a round with the piece of filth standing before her. While the subject of the two dead boys didn't create much of a stir inside of her, she had a few opinions on the matter-and it gave her one more reason to punch Darlene's pug-faced head in.

"Listen to me, you son of a-"

But the blaring of a horn that rattled the air and disturbed the quiet tenses that had so previously been in command cut her off. Both heads turned now, one angered, one afraid. Two heads popped out from the truck and Roxie immediately recognized whose company she was about to be in………and she groaned inwardly.

Pony………Pony and Steve. She frowned for a split second, wondering what on earth the two guys could be doing together; she knew they didn't get along well, it didn't matter how well you knew them. After all, any idiot could see it, with the exception of Sodapop that is.

The beat up old car drove right onto the grass, something Pony moaned at, when he realized it was indeed the track field, a.k.a. his sanctuary. His moaned changed, however, when he saw the inhabitants of the field: Roxie, barefoot and scowling, while Darlene on the other hand looked as sly as a fox……….and, well, now that he got a good look at her, pretty cheap too.

Steve killed the engine and pushed open the door, motioning for Pony to do the same. Soda crawled out of the back and walked around the backside of the car, gazing at the two girls. As his older brother made his presence known Pony could've sworn he saw a faint glimmer of satisfactory on Roxie's face, making him all the more curious about the girl behind………behind………well, behind it all.

Steve stuck a cigarette in his mouth, took a puff and sucked in the air around him. "Evening' ladies. What exactly are ya up to tonight?"

Darlene gave a wry smile and arched an eyebrow, smoothing out her dangerously short skirt. "Why do you wanna know boys?"

Soda scoffed, "Don't look at me. I don't give a shit what your doing."

Roxie hide a smile, glad for the callous reaction the Curtis brother had given her enemy. She'd always liked Sodapop. Darlene's sickeningly sweet smile faltered but did not vanish completely. Nor was it likely to anytime soon. She licked her lips and strutted over to Steve, batting her eyelashes while swiping a smoke from his back pocket.

"Gotta lighter?" she asked in the most seductive voice she could muster. But Steve swiped the cigarette out of her mouth and threw it down on the ground, rubbing it into the earth with the heel of his shoe. She gave him a look of the utmost absurdity, but turned to face Soda.

"Your buddy seems to be a tiny bit too gruff for me," she told him, bringing the seductiveness down a level, knowing full well it wasn't his type. "I think you'd be the better match for me, now that you're single and all."

That was all it took. Soda had been in a sour mood when he and Steve had gone to pick up Pony, but hearing this trash about Sandy from Darlene of all people-it was more than he could take. In an instant his eyes became alight with fire and his jaw tightened. Without warning he gripped Darlene's hand and pulled her closer to his face. He looked down at her, hatred consuming him.

"I don't know why the hell you act the way you do, but nobody, NOBODY gives a damn about you. You're a whore, Darlene, and everything else that's disgusting in this world." He told he through gritted teeth.

"If your half as smart as you think you are, you better leave right now………before I do something incredibly stupid." He glanced down at his hand around her arm. In a flash he let go, forcefully enough to let her know he was serious, but not enough pressure to make her fall down.

His family did not need a lawsuit on their hands.

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End Chapter


	5. So Damn Selfish

Chapter 5:

Roxie didn't remember anything else about that night. She felt like she was drunk, and everything around her was blurry and bizarre. She had been on the verge of defending Pony and his brothers, and Soda had threatened a girl. It was pure madness………and yet it had just happened a few short hours ago.

She was now sitting in the abandoned school auditorium, the lights were off and music was playing softly. It was Ella Fitzgerald, Roxie's favorite. Maybe it was a bit out of place for the sounds of the sixties, but in her heart Roxie knew that jazz would live on forever.

And it was her only comfort in the world.

"Is this seat taken?" a male voice behind her asked. She jumped then froze until the stranger moved around the aisle. Even then she could barley make out his features-it was Pony.

"That's a stupid question," she muttered, not in the mood for banter.

"You like Ella?" he finally asked, after some hesitation to speak again. She nodded her head, the beginnings of a smirk played softly on her lips, and suddenly she was very grateful the lights were off. "She's the best."

"Who-who else do you like?" he ventured, having no other idea of what to say.

"Shhhhh," she silenced him and gently pressed a finger to his mouth. "Just………listen."

The notes of the song began, and Pony drifted off into, well he didn't really know where. He felt himself flying, soaring above everything and everyone, and finally feeling an emotion Roxie did.

"You get it, don't you?" she asked, a hint of longing in her voice. It was more of an observation than a question. He nodded, spellbound. "I'm gonna do that," she went on in a confidant whisper. "I'm gonna make everybody stop and listen and take them somewhere they've never been before. And I'll-"

Suddenly, she stopped. She blinked, and looked at Pony as if she couldn't believe what she'd just told him.

"I don't know why I told you that."

He smiled, "I'm glad you did."

But she shook her head fiercely and jumped up. "No, no, I never said any of it. Forget it, all of it." She reached for her coat, but Pony grabbed it.

"It's okay Roxie, everybody has dreams."

"No! I'm not everybody. Give me back my damn coat, Ponyboy." He gently tossed the black fabric towards her, wishing she would let him put it on her. Roxie snatched it away with a glare, wanting very badly to undo the past minute. She started walking up the aisle to the exit, when she heard him call out.

"Don't push me away, Roxie! You don't have to be alone anymore…………I've seen and heard enough already, you don't have to show me more, just," Pony paused, figuring out the right words to say, "just talk to me for God's sake!" he pleaded as he stood up and ran towards her retreating figure.

She stopped at the door and turned on him, walked back to him. "You want me to talk to you? Well we can't all get what we want, you know. This is one screwy world. Hell, this is one screwy town. It ain't Hollywood, it ain't Chicago, and it ain't New York. Let's face it Pony, we were beat when we were born. "

Pony's insides were churning around and around and he felt his face grow hot with contempt.

"Don't you dare talk about this town that way! We grew up here; this is our home. This is MY home. My parents were born here and married here and they were buried here! Johnny was buried here! Dally was buried here! You wanna go ahead and leave, you can do that. I don't care and neither does anyone else. You're selfish, Roxie, you're so damn selfish!"

Roxie didn't know what to do, no boy had ever yelled at her like this, not with hatred or fury. Girls did it all the time; it was practically a ritual. But she couldn't handle this situation as if Pony had the mind of anyone but himself. At the moment she loathed him for it. She couldn't kiss him and make him forget or forgive. She didn't want his forgiveness anyway; it was a sign of weakness. Roxie Hart wasn't weak, nor did she want a weak man on her hands. She didn't feel hopeless or shameful and she certainly didn't cry. Roxie guessed Ella never cried. Vivien Leigh from 'Gone with the Wind' never cried. She slapped people, and that's exactly what Roxie did next. She raised her palm and slapped Ponyboy right across the face, leaving his cheek a shocking shade of red.

Knowing all too well what he would say if the chance ever presented itself, Pony took a breath and opened the theater door.

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

* * *

End Chapter.

"We where beat when we were born." Is from the movie Newsies.


	6. Goodnight Roxie Jo

Chapter 6:

Pony got home that night with a sick feeling in his stomach, and for a good reason too. It was two in the morning. He hadn't come back at two in the morning since, well, the night that started it all. As he drew nearer to the house he could make out the dim lights glowing in the living room, and he prayed Darry wasn't too upset.

But Darry wasn't even there-just Soda. He jumped up as soon the rackety screen door opened and Pony's tall frame walked through.

"Where you been, Pony? I told Darry you were in the bathroom-that was half and hour ago and he went to bed ten minutes ago!"

"Sorry." Pony mumbled, but he wasn't really. After the fiasco with Darlene, Soda and Steve headed towards home, but Pony wouldn't budge. For some stupid reason he told them he needed to some fresh air, and after fifteen minutes of reassuring Soda he'd be all right by himself (Steve didn't give a rat's ass), he set off. That only resulted in finding Roxie in the theater. The rest, as you know, is history.

He took off his jacket and tossed it across the armchair in the corner. He tiptoed past Darry's bedroom door and quietly let himself into his own room. Pony lay down on his side of the bed, not bothering to change into his pj's or even wash the grease out of his hair, as was the nightly custom at the Curtis household-even when his parents were alive. This was the first night that he didn't give a damn. Taking off his shoe, Pony aimed it at the wall, hitting the light switch that brought instant darkness into the small space.

As his eyelids grew heavier Pony thought back to when his worries were secluded to simply giving an oral report in front of his English class. He didn't think about that anymore, and he didn't really mind either-what he did mind was thinking about who would be next to leave him. Darry? Soda? Two-Bit? Steve? Maybe even Cherry? He knew he and Cherry had a connection, but all in all they hadn't spent a whole lot of time together-and they probably never would.

'It's alright,' thought Pony. 'I don't need her. And I don't need Roxie either.'

But in his mind the only difference between these two girls was that he wanted one of them-and she wouldn't have him.

Roxie threw herself onto the mattress. The springs underneath the bed gave an eerie squeak. Changing positions and lying on her back, she stared up at the ceiling, feeling absolutely disgusted with herself. She needed to wash her hair and her face. She needed to open the window-the air was so musty. And mother of all things, she needed to confront Pony.

But she did none of these. Roxie just laid there, her coat around her body and her shoes on her feet.

"They'll hurt in the morning," a voice whispered from the doorway. Roxie rolled her eyes.

"I'll take them off, Ma." She said in an irritated voice. Mrs. Hart emerged from the darkness, shadows playing on her relatively young yet worn face. She had brown hair, with gray streaks near the front that were painfully visible in the moonlight. Her eyes, though, remained completely still. Petrified, almost.

"I wouldn't want you to trip, darling." Her voice was monotone, like a zombie.

"No, Ma."

"That wouldn't be very smart. You have to be a smart girl, Roxie-Jo."

"Yes, Ma."

"You don't wanna end up like me." It was like she was in a trance, eyes glazed over and all.

She strained, eyes still closed. "Ma………"

"Goodnight, Roxie-Jo."

Roxie sighed, long and heavy.

"Night Ma."

Mrs. Hart backed out of the room, as though she was walking on glass. The door shut, and all was quiet. Roxie sat up, staring down at the prized stiletto heels. It had taken her a whole year to get the money for them. She earned it all herself, having wanted one article of clothing that she could be proud of. She didn't have to kiss guys or pose for pictures anything else for these shoes. They were clean, untainted, and completely hers. Unbuckling them carefully, she set them down on her nightstand, and flopped back onto the bed.

Quickly and effortlessly she stripped down to her bra and panties-and nightly activity that usually made her feel good about herself-and flopped back down onto her bed. Curling herself up into a tight ball, she looped her arms around her legs, and rocked herself to sleep.

* * *

End Chapter.


	7. Help!

Hello people! Well, I'm back……….sort of. See, I'm completely out of fresh ideas, so if you've read my story please drop me a line and tell me what you'd like to happen next. All suggestions are greatly appreciated.

Thanks,

Kate

P.s. Don't worry-I'll be adding more dialogue in the chapters to come…….I know the first couple of chapters are hard to get through, so thanks for toughing it out if you did!


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